A Rascal, A Rogue, A Scamp - Law's Collections 6
by Harmonica Smile
Summary: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, a time to die," a time to attend the Great Commemorative Tea-Towel convention, and a time to let Nico Robin paint your nails. As if Law had any choice in the matter. With that many hands, subjugation wasn't a matter of if, but when. Law and Marco lay a dear friend to rest. Law/Marco.
1. Chapter 1 - Revolutionary - Robin, Law

**Chapter One - Revolutionary**

* * *

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin's backyard, a book over his face. He wasn't in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself susceptible to melanoma. Robin sat on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin's in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She'd spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts, that had less to do with Dali, and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn't quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou. Minus Law. Robin frowned. Doflamingo had him then.

That was last night though, and now, soon, they'd head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she'd made Law pretty.

.

"These are so cute." She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law's left big toe.

"Freak," Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law's foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

"When did you last clip these?"

"What's it to you? You're the one who wanted to dress me up."

"You're the one who's letting me. You've got old man's feet, by the way."

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

"The sexy surgeon's pedes don't please? You said they were cute?"

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law's fancy Latin terms.

"Mmm. I wouldn't go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies."

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the design, though it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law, and historically, definitely not his favourite.

"And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit."

.

"Does Marco like them?"

"He's got his kinks."

"And . . . ?"

"They remain in the bedroom," Law smirked. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they'd never had a deep conversation about _those_ particular extremities.

"Ah, you're no fun."

"I've been told."

Law felt her move to the next digit.

"What colour are you painting them?"

"Tch."

As if it could be anything but black.

"Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once," Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn't trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed. A rationed, clipped, exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

"Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?"

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law's foot for the best access. Law's own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist – a solid link – a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

"His fine motor skills aren't the best. You've seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I'd amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room." Robin heard a rumble lift Law's chest and then dissolve. He smiled easily. The book didn't cover all of his face. "He even dabbed a paw print on my heel."

"He chose red?" She loved that flash of teeth.

"Mmm. So. I guess it's black?"

.

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

"Oi, talk to me _endling_. Of course it's black."

Law's lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

"So _needy_ , terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?"

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as personal nomenclatures were entirely off-limits to anyone else.

"Take that book off your face at least. I know you can't read it like that."

"Your makeup bag's not nearby, is it?"

"Just the toes today, Dr. Death."

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, tched, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it - still spreadeagled - on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

.

"Can I sit up?"

The grey of Law's irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. "Give it a few."

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

"How about Luffy?" she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law's casual feet days. If they'd ever played around with nail polish, she'd never seen the results.

Law groaned.

"He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky." The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. "For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience."

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

"He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos – and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I'd dreamt up the activity and forced it on him." A hiss of incredulity struck the back of his teeth.

He felt his earrings with his thumb and forefinger. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

"And you let him?"

Law didn't need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

"You choose your battles."

"Mmm." Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn't surprise her. She'd kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn't somehow swap for food.

.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

"Phoenix?"

"Still trying to unearth his kinks?"

"Now that you bring it up."

Law's grin, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

"I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He's got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he's in Zoan form. I try to match those shades – a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself."

"Does he notice?" Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

"Sometimes."

"You don't tell him?"

"Not always. Other things are more pressing."

"Does he know you're a freak?"

"I thought that was you."

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

.

"The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It's not really hygienic in the clinic, either."

"You operate with your toes?"

Law laughed. "When I do my hands . . . It's not hygienic."

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

"The dogs don't like it, but Bepo can handle it?"

"Well, he's a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?"

Robin nodded. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Makeup?"

"Being a freak."

"To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can't all be Chopper."

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

When Misery had been well, she'd walk from the room, sending a long-suffering glance Law's way if he pulled out nail varnish or remover. When she was ill, he didn't dare uncap anything. Like him, her original owners had been far from kind, and her lifespan was cut short as a result. When she fell ill, Law hadn't used his power on her.

The vet had said that she wasn't in pain, but she was wasting away. If she'd been in pain, Law would have applied his devil fruit. He tried not to mess with nature too much.

In her last days, Marco and Law would carry her outside to join them as they sat in the garden to smoke, drink, eat or just to enjoy the day. Law had her nearby while he took care of the herbs he used for the clinic. She took in the fresh air in the way she did when either one of them walked her. She loved those walks. All the smells and fun of rustling and rummaging through the undergrowth. When she was healthy, the minute either one of them arrived home she'd whine and eye the leash.

In the way she always checked they were there when she'd been more mobile, the men made sure that, in her weakened state, they were within her range of smell, if not vision. She tottered here and there on the lawn, squatted to do her business, and then stood, lost in some never-never land, until one of them guided her back to the blanket. That often involved picking up her one-eyed, barrelled-chested, being. She'd always been sturdy, but she lost weight Law recalled, wiping his spare hand across his shirt, hitting the book, as he lay on the recliner, remembering her fur under his hand. Rather than turning to lick his face, she'd remain still.

Misery wasn't young when they got her, though no-one was really sure of her age. She had a few years with them, and Law liked to think they were good ones for her. After, they took in Mephistopheles, who was taken out too quickly by a canine disease, and now Mercury, who was healthy. She'd outlasted the other two dogs so far – all their black, disfigured pups. Law scanned her fairly often.

Misery had seen Marco and Law through the toughest times. She'd really given them her all, and never looked back once she'd grown to trust them. It had taken a bit of time to gain that trust, and Law had been so wounded when Misery came to their home, that he'd put all his effort into connecting with her. He couldn't handle seeing an animal hurting more than he was himself; being scared of him at a time when the world seemed to have no hospitable space for him. Making a safe place for her created one for himself in many ways.

She could be cantankerous, and favoured Law over Marco – who wouldn't? – Law smiled to himself, but she was loyal and cared for either one of them when it seemed that they didn't care enough for themselves.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

"You can sit up now, Law, and just what are you thinking about, smirking away?"

"Misery."

"She makes you smirk?"

"She was a funny old bird."

Robin looked across at the undisguised affection Law showed for the memory of the dog he and Marco had cared for all those years previously. He lifted the book from his chest, closed it, and rested it on the side of the recliner. Pushing down on his elbows, he shifted his body further up the seat, sitting upright.

"How did you get your reputation?"

"The sadist of the seas?" Law leant down to pull up his messenger bag from the side of the chair. He tucked his book inside.

Robin nodded.

Law shrugged. It had served him well at times.

* * *

 **AN** : _Repossession_ chapters this references: 30 & 31 (NOT a T rating. Read the warnings.). This is a follow on (prequel to) _Teaspoon Collectors_ (M rating), (AO3 version, E rating, full version).

The Robin & Law friendship is for anyone who likes reading it, but especially for **Sarge1130**.

So, I had a little more for this story for this world kicking around somewhere ;-)

In this AU, Luffy is now the Pirate King and Zoro is his faithful partner. Law and Luffy were a couple for two years. All characters live in a kind of One Piece AU on a series of islands a ferry ride away from one another. I hope these stories can stand alone without knowledge of the prior fic. I think they can. Sorry for the confusion if they cannot.

In this AU, Law is in his thirties, and Marco and he have been partners for a number of years.

 **Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **Note: Dec 8, 2018** : The Vivre Cards have come out with Marco's height, and he's got 12cm on Law. When I started writing these two, a post on Oro Jackson had Marco at about 184 cm, which I prefer. I initially wrote Marco taller, and readjusted everything. Now, it seems I need to go the other way! BUT, I'll just leave author notes instead. It's always an AU anyway.


	2. Ch2: Respect & Respiration: Robin, Marco

**Chapter 2: Respect and Respiration**

* * *

Robin had stayed at Law and Marco's the night that Misery passed. She'd walked with Law and the one-eyed mongrel on more than one occasion, and recalled when the dog had been the only one able to draw a word from an almost catatonic Heart captain as he worked his way through the aftermath of an unexpected attack, his confidence shaken to the core, and thrown back to darker times.

Almost at the same time, Misery had witnessed the stages of Law and Marco's separation and reconciliation, rooting from the sidelines, and stubbornly leaning against the shins of the heavily-tatted man whenever he came around, trying to pin him to one place. She'd dragged one of his t-shirts from the hamper when he'd left Marco for six months, and would not give it up, sleeping on it, and burying it out of sight when she had to do other things, like bark at aeroplanes. Out of her sight wasn't always out of Marco's of course.

Misery had been with Law when Killer spoke to him about Kid's proposal to set up the clinics, clinics he still ran. In fact, the blond first mate housed a number of rescue dogs due to the Heart pirate's insistence. As they all did.

Even now, Law often wove Misery, and their other dogs, into the storylines of his dreams as a kind of familiar. They'd helped him out more than once against those populating his nightmares.

.

Law had been the one to take her to the vet. She was glassy-eyed. She could still walk and wobble around the yard, and turn to the area from where she thought Law or Marco's voice originated, but it wasn't much of a life. Sometimes she'd run in totally the wrong direction when called, her hearing all screwed up. Law thanked god for his power in those situations; being able to quickly shamble a few grains of sand or a leaf to replace Misery as she headed straight toward traffic instead of toward him.

The doctor, a bearded man gruffer than Law himself, had told of his own Chihuahua, and how she'd been very close to dying, but had waited for the vet to come home from work with some fried chicken, her favourite. Curled up into her basket, she nibbled just a bit. She hadn't had much of an appetite.

"She'd wanted to say goodbye."

She was gone by the morning.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

"What do you think, twinkle-toes?"

Law looked down at the painted nails, the colour, at least, matching the patterns on the tops of his feet. He was quite fond of the hair on his big toes. Anomalies appealed to him, except he didn't think it was that much of an anomaly to have hairy toes.

"It matches the aesthetic."

" _Thank you_ , Robin," Robin said.

"I think you should be thanking me. Don't you all do this in a subliminal effort to subjugate and emasculate me?" Though maybe there was nothing subliminal to it.

"And you let us. Isn't thanking us part of that kink?"

Law lost this smile for a second. Yes, it fucking was, but he'd brought the idea up, and he let it go. He dragged his long legs along the recliner and – turning to the side – placed them on the ground. He slipped his feet into his sandals, stood, and stretched to the sun. Robin could gaze at the hint of tattoos that decorated his body all day. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he caught her eye and extended his hand.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

Law and Robin had lain with Misery one afternoon during her stay, a blanket stretched on the lawn, a Strawhat and Heart either side of her. It was after the veterinarian had told him about his Chihuahua. Law said his goodbyes while the dog lay patiently, as she often did, her gaze on some distant point, but fine with having Law there. Robin wasn't sure if Misery knew she was present. Law couldn't tell if she really was being patient or just couldn't move, tired of life. Replete with life. Probably a mixture of all.

She still rested on his old t-shirt. They'd given up trying to get it off her ages ago. It was basically just a rag that they washed now and then, when they could find it, and when Misery wasn't looking. Law smiled at her now, not knowing how to show what it had meant to him that she ensured his scent was near, even in his absence, especially in his absence. At the time, that is. The cloth was 100% doggy pong now.

A steady undertone of gratitude, Law asked how could she love him so much? Robin couldn't hear all that Law murmured, but she picked up that Misery had always been happy to see him, even though he'd been gone. She made him exercise, kept him calm, and he dug her for being the strange, quirky dog she was.

What she didn't hear was that Misery had waited at the edge, or even in the middle, of darkness when it had consumed Law. She demanded that he see her when he blocked all else out. She reminded him there was good. How could anyone have hurt her? He scratched the top of her head, and there wasn't even the usual thump of her tail.

Law didn't know what he was expecting. There was no acknowledgement, but it wasn't like she was a Mink. Even so, he _was_ able to tell her, and to run his hand in her fur and hold it just a little tighter before letting go. It was good to know he could do this.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

"We're going to a tea-towel convention, Law. Don't you think the aesthetic is old-man-cardigan, beige, and checked twill trousers?"

Law's eyes lit up at the possibilities. _Moth balls_. Then he came back to earth. Hmm, _beige nail polish_.

"The islands are too warm for that. I'm bringing sexy back, Robin. I'm the guarded part of Avant garde. The Dishcloth Dames won't know what hit them."

They'd gathered their stuff, and walked across the yard to the house.

"Oh God," Robin laughed. She knew he was taking the piss, but really, he didn't have to try too hard to be any part of sexy, and his absurd humour just made him more appealing. The Dishcloth Dames _never_ knew what hit them when Law visited, but they also gave him a run for his money. He came away smelling pampered and powdered.

"You're the fool in foolish."

Law dropped his head, his return quick.

"And you're the best in friend." He hugged her to him, not breaking his stride, Robin stumbling slightly before regaining her footing. Nami definitely _didn't_ get this treatment, but outside of Luffy, Robin was the Strawhat who knew him best. And in many ways, better than Luffy did.

"Do you always have to make us out to be callous?"

"If the strawhat fits . . ."

She punched him and he staggered to the side in mock hurt. She _wasn't_ Penguin, but was just as cheeky. He wondered if she did have any cardigans he could rummage through, though he doubted anything would be in his size.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

Robin extended her stay at Law and Marco's because of Misery's sickness. She'd come to their island for a gallery opening which finished after the last ferry left for her home, and had been only going to stay for the night when the dog had taken a turn for the worse.

It was a couple of evenings after Law had specifically given his thanks to Misery that she inhaled her final breath. It was peaceful. Not like Mephistopheles who came after her. The newer dog fitted and was gone before Marco or Law could even begin to think what to do. However, they made the old girl as comfortable as they could, and she slept on a worn blanket in their room, with another under that. She still lay on the remnants of the t-shirt, with her other favourite cushions, cloths and squeaky toys snuggled around her.

Marco tucked her favourite chewed-beyond-recognition toy under her chin. He stroked the pad of his thumb against the three hairs sprouting from it before going to bed. Someone once told them a dog's pedigree could be judged from those hairs. He and Law both figured three hairs must mean top-shelf. There was no way Misery was anything but. And even if she was rotgut? The pirates' taste was wide and varied, and things were more interesting with a bit of grit. No-one had ever regarded them as the sweetest of nectars either, except for the worst of reasons. Misery _was_ sweet though. Clumsy, bullheaded and with a bad habit of drooling over everything, but sweet.

Law, attuned to any change in the air, peeled back the covers of their bed in the early morning. He crossed the room, adjusted his junk, scratched the back of his head, and stifled a loud yawn as he did so. With his line of work, he easily understood and also witnessed the moment Misery was no longer in her physical body. He kept her company throughout the process, sitting to the side of the blanket, his back against the wall, as her breath quickened and shallowed. They'd forgotten to draw the curtains across the transom windows and a slice of light fell through, a rectangular patch of white on the floorboards.

The legs she'd had so much difficulty moving of late, kicked out as if she were chasing rabbits in her sleep, as she liked to. Or that one dream where she banished Doflamingo and Kid from his subconscious. Law smiled tiredly at the memory – dream Doflamingo deflating to the size of a mosquito after being punctured by a snarling, dream Misery, and spinning out of the window with a comical, indignant, persistent, high-pitched squeak.

Sitting on the floor with Misery, the incidental secretion of saline from his lacrimal glands, silent as always, did not get in the way of what he had to do. He even rested back against the wall, drawing his knees up for comfort, and slept for ten minutes or so. It was right to be with her.

When she drew her last, he pushed two fingers into the warm skin and fur of the inner thigh of her foreleg, where it connected with her now-wasted torso, seeking the femoral artery, searching for a pulse. When he found none, he pulled the blanket around and over her, as if protecting her from the cold. He stood, went to the bathroom, washed his hands and face.

Climbing back into bed, he pushed himself into Marco – the Phoenix facing the opposite direction for once. Law pressed his face between Marco's shoulder blades, Law's own arms curled into his own body, aligned with his partner's spine.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

In the morning, rigor mortis had set in, and Marco could hardly look at her, or at Law. The room didn't smell as bad as Law thought it might. Misery hadn't been eating much in the last few days. The Heart pirate again noted that she was nowhere within the body, so he was able to look at its form easily, open eyes and all. Secretions had dried, and the extra blanket should have absorbed them before they sank into the hardwood. Even if they had, Law didn't care. Let any stain be a remembrance.

In the kitchen, he put the kettle on, and then crept into Robin's room. Blurry with sleep, hair falling over her face, she listened to the news as Law sat on the edge of her bed, his face calm. After a quick wash, she threw on a t-shirt and jeans, and joined him in the yard.

Law often prepared the soil for his medicinal herbs and the vegetables they used for cooking. The shovel leant against the side of the house where he'd last left it. There was no point in putting it away. It hardly rained on the island in these months. Law grabbed it. He and Marco had previously decided upon a space about two metres from the garden bench for Misery's resting place. The Heart and Strawhat wandered over and he began to dig. He was happy his morbid friend was there. Morbidity to others seemed common sense to him a lot of the time.

"Where's Marco?" Robin asked, crossing her arms. The morning air had an edge to it.

Law continued digging and shrugged. He was a bit surprised, but people dealt with loss in different ways. Robin stood a little back from the edge of the widening hole. There wasn't much she could do to help Law, but both were happy for the company of the other.

Before having her shower, after checking with Law, she'd ventured into the main bedroom and had pulled back the blanket to say goodbye to Misery, but found that it wasn't necessary, because she was already gone. She was happy to have shared the afternoon with Law and the dog the other day, even if all spoken exchange had come from the Heart captain.

Law didn't feel a need to extend any comfort to Robin and she felt the same about him. Silence was fine, but small talk wouldn't have been out of place. The shovel struck the thicker clay that made up parts of the island, and the earth couldn't be budged any further. Law cursed. The hole was hardly big enough. A posthole digger was needed to create a space deep enough to ensure the village dogs didn't dig up Misery. Wherever in hell they kept that.

.

Marco's coffee cup was full, but cold. Law had brewed a pot that morning for everyone. Spread in front of him on the kitchen table, the Daily Coo was on the same page as when Law had exited the house with Robin. Like Misery, Marco just stared out at the sky over the balcony, at something only he could see, or didn't see.

Marco shrugged Law's hand from his shoulder, his partner's tattoos standing out against his lighter skin. Law lifted it away and accepted the gesture for what it was. There were enough times when he was off-limits to Marco too.

"We need the digger."

The blond glanced up. Slowly.

"You know, the one that will get through the clay."

Law could search through the shed just as easily as his partner, but he felt if Marco was involved, maybe the Phoenix's pain would lessen. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping across the floor, and stood without comment.

Law followed him to the yard like an unwanted shadow, but he didn't care. He was slightly put out, but Misery was _their_ dog. He was sticking around. Marco tossed the tools onto the shed floor with a clatter until he found the one he wanted. He didn't pass it Law's way, but walked past him instead to where Robin remained near the already partway dug grave. One of them would need to pick up that mess later.

Law's powers could loosen dirt, strata, but where was the respect in that? Misery had healed his life with her nature and spirit, and he didn't want to use any tricks to see her off.

Robin cut her greeting and glance of commiseration short when she caught sight of Marco's impassive face, and, instead, moved closer to Law. He sought her hand. She curled her fingers into his own. After the escape, all those years ago, hooded, terrified and badly hurt, Robin's touch was the first to reassure him that he was safe. Just once the Strawhats stopped the bandits who were invading the Thousand Sunny, that is.

Marco never begrudged Law the contact. Law was calm now, so her worry was minimal. She never got easily worked up anyway. Not to say she wasn't concerned for the Whitebeard pirate, or Law himself. But if she didn't sense tenseness in her dark-haired friend, then she knew the situation was under control.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

Law's nodachi pushed against his shoulder as they left the house. His feet looked good. Those who knew the two called out their greetings, looking up from watering their gardens, or clipping hedges. Those who didn't veered away, or sent a timid hello Robin's way while raking an eye over Law with a touch of judgement, and maybe desire.

Law was indifferent to all, though Robin knew he noted and noticed all. His presence disrupted the space around him like a Theremin hum, and as such her neighbours probably didn't even notice the great job Robin had done on his toenails. The Dishcloth Dames were bound to though.

"Men don't wear nail varnish, Law," Trinity, the president of The Commemorative Tea-Towel Society, had told him one time when he'd waggled newly painted fingernails in front of her, matching the rainbow-striped and stud-imbedded nails she clacked across the calculator as she tallied up Law's purchases. It was one of his fabulous days. Or maybe Chopper had been let loose on him.

"I see." He changed the hands holding his money so she was faced with the stunted, blunted mess of stubs on the other hand. He tried to paint them occasionally, just for the hell of it.

"That's _not_ an improvement," she'd grumbled.

Law had pushed his money into her hands with a sharp smile, and she'd taken it. No harm, no foul. She still showed him her wares, he still bought them.

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

Marco made short work of the compacted earth with the correct tool. Law was capable, but it was better that all farewelled her, even if Marco's stoicism only allowed him and Robin to be silent spectators at this stage.

Finished, he dropped the digger on the grass and strode inside. Law trailed after, and Robin went with him. Law knew the power of saying goodbye, and he knew Marco hadn't. That Marco had put off thinking about the inevitable. He'd clammed up when his younger partner spoke about a suitable burial spot, though he'd eventually agreed with the location Law thought would work. He'd give Marco all the space he needed, but he _didn't_ want to be excluded from laying Misery to rest.

The blond gathered the body – it wasn't Misery – in the blanket, and folded it around her. Marching past Law and Robin again, face a blank, he carried the stiff bundle outside. The dark-haired couple followed like rejected ducklings. For Law, it was so much easier to bury her, knowing she'd gone elsewhere; that the body they rested in the earth did _not_ have her spirit. It wouldn't be so easy if he recognised vestiges of her personality. He could only guess at Marco's feelings, which were obviously not the same as his own.

The Phoenix lowered Misery into the opening and Law proceeded to cover her with shovelled dirt. Marco grabbed his elbow before he could tip the next spadeful of earth into the excavation, and Law, looking over, understood from the tight set of his mouth that his partner couldn't speak. He stopped filling the trench.

Marco wandered back inside and soon returned with the orange cloth that used to be Law's t-shirt. He unwrapped the blanket, the shroud, a little, and placed it under the dog's rigid head, running a hand on Misery's cold snout, her teeth bared, before closing the cloth around her bent, he pressed a knuckled fist to his forehead, and sprinkled a handful of dirt into the grave, before crossing the yard and reentering the house.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**

Incidents referred to in this chapter between Robin and Law can be found in chapter 6 of _Repossession_. Please read the warnings. _**Not**_ a T rating.

The chapters with Misery in _Repossession_ are _30_ (Killer) and 31.

The past trouble between Law and Marco is touched upon in _Birds of a Feather_ , and slightly in _Teaspoon Collectors._ (Both mild M ratings). The more detailed version of events is on AO3 in the longer form of _Teaspoon Collectors_. Again, please read the warnings. E rating.


	3. Chapter 3 - Solace: Marco, Robin

**Chapter three - Solace**

* * *

Law returned home from the clinic a few nights after they'd buried Misery. Marco had been withdrawn. Law tried to talk to him, but the Phoenix just needed to grieve in his own way. One death brought all the others to the surface. Law knew his way was not everyone's. He wasn't about to get a jacket emblazoned with the rescue dog's name, but he had literally worn his losses before, still wore them, he thought, looking down at the emblem on his shirt.

Marco was more reserved in this case. Law could be too. In fact, he was known for it. This time around, however, he was more than grateful he'd had the chance to thank Misery, to say goodbye. He was appreciative he'd been given warning that soon he wasn't going to see her again. How often was anyone given that opportunity? Maybe a lot more often than Law had actually experienced.

His partner sat on the garden bench, the evening light colouring the tips of his mop of hair. The view from the seat took in the ocean at a distance, the sun setting over it. Shanks had brought a few exotic trees back with him from his travels, and their spindly forms – gradually dimming against the sky – housed birds calling in the dusk.

Marco looked up as the doctor walked further into the yard, and he indicated the seat next to him. Law wandered over and sat, shucking off his backpack. He wiped an arm across his forehead, catching a whiff of body odour. Their house was on the steepest hill in the village. Marco seemed a bit more relaxed than he had been lately and Law found his own cautious guard evaporating.

"I saw her tonight."

The brunet turned to him. The light cupped a corner of Marco's face. The Phoenix's arched eyebrows and hooded lids gave off an aura of disinterest. Law had been accused of the same at times. Sometimes either one of them was as detached as they seemed. Not now though.

"Who?"

"Misery."

Law nodded, now looking ahead. Marco stole a glance at him before returning his gaze to where they'd dug the grave.

.

"Probably an illusion, but you know, I just came out here to think, to get ready for my shift, and there she was, curled up like she did when she slept on your goddamn grotty shirt. The shirt was there too. Even in the afterlife."

Marco ran his fingers across his chest tattoo, the Whitebeard symbol.

"It was on the spot, right where we buried her. Probably just my mind playing tricks, but I could see her, clear as day. I shook my head and looked away, and when I looked back she was gone."

"She was there," Law said, and when he moved closer to Marco, the older man let him, smelly underarms and all, and when Law took his hand, he returned the gesture, their shoulders brushing. "Was she peaceful?"

Marco nodded.

"She just wanted to say goodbye."

Marco ran a finger along Law's nails as was his habit. Law liked it. A lot.

.

"I thought you couldn't wear this shit at work."

"I'm the boss."

"I wouldn't want it flaking into my wounds."

"Don't get injured then." Law paused for a moment, but then spoke to the yard.

"You're right. Shachi dropped in and did it after work. I've got the next few days off."

Marco turned the lapis lazuli in his pocket where his other hand rested. He didn't even need to lift Law's hand to know the colour.

"Sorry, Law. It hurt. Her leaving us. More than I thought it would."

"Mmm. I know."

"It wasn't against you."

Law tipped his head in acknowledgement.

.

"What can we plant?"

"On Misery?"

"Yeah."

"One Eyed Willie."

"There's a plant called that?"

Law snorted. "Mmm, Hemerocallis, Daylily."

Though the soil they'd had to dig up at a deeper level for Misery was clay, the top soil was fertile. The daylilies took to a slightly tougher terrain.

"Black-eyed Susans."

"You know a plant name?" Law turned his face to Marco. The older man's expression turned to mock annoyance.

"I know all the plant names. I've been around for centuries. I just don't know their names in _your_ language."

"Oh, we speak different languages now?"

Marco pressed harder on the lacquer on Law's nails. He felt the Heart Captain relax even more beside him, lips curved, even while he grimaced slightly at the extra pressure. In response, Law ran his thumb a few times over the bones joining the Phoenix's thumb to his wrist, over his trapezium and scaphoid.

Marco's eyes slid to the side and took in the neat trimmed goatee and sharp sideburns of his partner, so compact compared to the straggly whiskers he couldn't be arsed taking too much care of. He did, for Law's sake, but both positive and negative worth had never hinged on his appearance as much as it had for Law, so his grooming habits were rooted in functionality and not survival.

Law dressed – took care of himself – for himself, but it hadn't always been the way under Doflamingo's watch.

.

"Black eyed peas," Law said, leaning back into the bench. He removed his hand from Marco's, and rested it in his lap. "Then we get to eat, she'd like that."

"I think she was as fond of vegetables as Luffy is."

"She ate anything," Law contradicted. "She was an omnivore."

Marco tipped his head back. True, she'd probably clamber over their deathbed for an empty tin of tuna. So long as it was stinky. Or had traces of food.

"Something orange?"

"Something blue?"

Law picked up his backpack and stood. "C'mon. You got time to go for a walk before your shift?"

Marco nodded. "Will you come down later?" Looking up, he saw that Law was tired from his day, but a walk would reinvigorate them, and he'd said he had a few days off.

"Yeah." Law would make his way to the pub later.

.

On their way to the park, the wind still moved the grasses about them, but it was absent of a particular snuffling and rustling.

Neither man made an effort for physical closeness but their pace easily matched the other and that of Misery. At the corner, a small dog that usually bayed until they passed, grew quiet when it realised the loudest most inquisitive member of the group was missing. The smelliest member.

Its owner stood nearby ready to shout out at both that black-haired miscreant and his dog who always pissed against his fence, but he quieted as his pet had when the tall pair strolled by without incident.

Law lifted a hand in lazy greeting, and received a terse jerk of the head in reply. The pirate, or was it doctor? let a faint smile cross his face. An acknowledgement of judgement. The neighbour felt a swell of justification when the dog let out a series of ferocious yelps at the sound of leather hitting pavement. There they went. Disrupting the peace again.

They followed the familiar path and, though the activity of their dog constantly needing their attention or avoiding it was missing, the habitual action brought peace.

.

"Why didn't she ever want one of my t-shirts, Law?" They were half-way through their walk and it would be dark by the time they returned.

Law stopped and looked at his partner, and almost laughed at the little-boy-lost look on the man who had seen decades upon decades. He never stopped surprising him.

"Because you were always there for her, Marco. You never left her behind."

And though they both knew Law's reasons for being gone were more than valid, Law also recognised that Marco had committed to looking after their dog when he could have walked away, because the two people who'd brought her into their life were no longer together. He watched Law walk away instead, allowing the possibility it might be permanent, by not tying Law to Misery, even though he was her favourite. Law, always the prodigal son if only there had been a family to return to. Doflamingo didn't count.

Except that he hadn't gone whoring around nor burnt a hole in their savings.

A t-shirt was a poor substitute for a person, but it was better than nothing. She hadn't needed any articles of Marco's because she had the man himself.

"I think she might have loved that shirt more than she loved me, in the end." Law's fillings flashed as he laughed at their dog, and adjusted Marco's jacket. Marco noted that Shachi had painted both hands. "I was gone so long she couldn't tell the reality from the representation."

Only Law could say that. Only he could define their separation as lengthy. In reality, the time they spent away from one another was what was needed to ensure they stayed together.

"Just as well," Marco bumped his shoulder against Law's to indicate they should start walking again. He remained close. "Because I'd rather she take the representation to the grave than the real thing."

* * *

 **oOOo**

* * *

Trinity unfurled Marco's abomination, the design he'd commissioned, and Law couldn't have been happier looking at the faces of their three gormless dogs.

"No colours this time?" she asked, taking note of Law's unvarnished nails as he viewed the tea-towel with approval.

Law looked down to see what she was referring to, and saw that she had tassels hanging from her squarely filed nails. And she called his preferences crass. One of her nails was embedded with a small flashing light.

"I'm no good at multi-tasking, Trinity. I could only get my toenails done this time." He placed the cloths back on the table, raised a leg, and curled it against his body in a yoga tree pose. A slight twist of Robin's lips changed her face from amused to wicked. How he managed that balance while still holding the nodachi, she wasn't sure. He examined his foot, and turned it outwards.

"It's all right. I've seen your feet before."

"Have you seen the hairs on his big toes?" Robin interjected and Law, leg lowered, looked across curiously at Trinity to see her reaction.

"Hmph. I don't need to." She started sorting through the selection.

"So cute," Robin murmured.

"She's a freak." Law jerked his thumb back at Robin, a false sneer on his face and in his voice.

Trinity rolled her eyes at the pot calling the kettle black.

"I feel slighted, Captain Trafalgar," Robin laughed.

.

"Okay, one blue scarf, one abomination, three exquisite designs, and the usual tacky flotsam and jetsam." Trinity counted the tea-towels Law had picked up.

"I keep you in business."

Trinity pursed her lips, a slight smile. It was true.

"And this." Robin added a cloth to the pile, and her money along with Law's. An umber cloth streaked through with black as if smoked over a fire. Law turned to her.

"Misery features on Marco's gift, and you can't bring her back into your house without something to invite her home. I _know_ you. You're going to display it somewhere."

He nodded. "It'd be a waste if I didn't."

Law picked up the cloth Robin placed in front of him, unfolded and smelled it.

These pirates really were something else, Trinity, thought. They better be buying that. But then again, Law and his friends _were_ some of her best customers.

It smelled new, and of cotton, and of the packing it had been encased in.

.

"It won't take long . . ." Robin said, shaking it out and reaching up to drape it around Law's neck. It was a light, summer thread. He'd do the same for Marco later with the blue scarf he'd chosen. ". . . for it to gain your scent."

It really didn't suit what he was wearing. _Marco_ liked scarves.

"I know it's not quite your style." She looked up at him, and tweaked his earrings in a way only the Phoenix and some of the dishcloth ladies could, "but it will give her something to come home to."

Law accepted it with a brush of his thumb over Robin's cheek, though he removed the scarf from his neck, for now, and put it with the rest of the purchases.

He wasn't sure that Misery had ever left – the daylilies over her resting spot flowered tenaciously each passing year. Mephistopheles was laid to rest nearby. One of that genus bore her name too.

It was a nice spot to tie a line from one tree to another though, the trees that Shanks and Benn had travelled the oceans with and brought back with them in mind. To attach the cloth there was a possibility – the goodwill from Robin's gesture and Misery's heart would be something easy on the eye on stressful days, the umber melding with the sun and the scorched marks complementing the small bats that flapped about on summer nights.

He scouted around to see if there was a similar style cloth, but different colour, to represent the second dog who'd hardly spent any time with them. Maybe white to counter both her name and represent her short experience on earth. There was nothing demonic about any of their pets. Their owners were another matter, however

.

"Is that all, Mr. Trafalgar?"

He sure was getting the formal treatment today.

"Ms. Trinitatem."

"You can just call me Holy."

"Holly?"

Trinity stopped herself from laughing. "You heard me."

.

Law counted out the beli and passed it across and, as he did so, the older woman gripped his hand. Law froze.

"Next time," she said, and gestured for him to present the other as well, "Let me do these for you." She splayed his fingers.

She grasped each hand equally, though he saw her sizing up - probably measuring - all she could do for the very un-pretty hand. Probably some enhancement or wrap that would have even Cora turning in his grave.

Robin couldn't stop giggling at the look of horror Law was trying to contain. But ever the gentleman in certain situations, he didn't protest. He did have a collector's addiction to feed, after all.

"It would be a pleasure, Trinity, to be inducted into the Holy Order of Commemorative Tea-towels and Artificial Nails," Law coughed. "Next time."

Robin had seen him pale before, but not in times of peace.

"I won't forget."

Law swallowed. He was sure she wouldn't.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**

Parts of this, especially the reasons for Law and Marco's past separation, is touched upon in _Birds of a Feather,_ and fully explored in the long version of Teaspoon Collectors on AO3. **Please** read the warnings. **No** t a T rating.

Law's past with Doflamingo is explored in all of _Repossession_. The A/N in the first chapter will give you the lowdown, but the fiction is NOT T-rated, so again, **please** read the warnings.

* * *

 **Note: Dec 8, 2018** : The Vivre Cards have come out with Marco's height, and he's got 12cm on Law. When I started writing these two, a post on Oro Jackson had Marco at about 184 cm, which I prefer. I initially wrote Marco taller, and readjusted everything. Now, it seems I need to go the other way! BUT, I'll just leave author notes instead. It's always an AU anyway.


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